Life and Death: The 68th Annual Hunger Games
by flamebrawler
Summary: The 68th Hunger Games have begun! 24 tributes are thrown into an arena, pitted againsted each other for survival, but with a twist. Alliances form and change, lives are lost at great cost. Who will be named the victor? Co-written by Sarah-belle2541.


**Sarah's POV**

Panem. The worst place on Earth. Where they monitor every little move you make and separate you from any contact outside your district. I hate it here. I hate them even more. The Capitol. Always florishing with beautiful clothing and fancy food. While most of the people in District 5 have a reasonable life here-not exactly the delicacy food the Capitol seems to never run out of or the brilliantly made outfits they have-they at least have actual food every day and have enough clothes though. My family is the exact opposite. We are the poor family. The pathetic, lowlife family that everyone shuns.

District 5 is the power district. We make the electricity that powers all of Panem. The Capitols always seems to use it alot more than the districts themselves. There are usually blackouts within the districts so the stupid Capitols can have their precious power. We get paid a decent amount here though since all of the country pays us to get their share of power.

My father works in the power plant and gets paid quite enough for us to get by, but he always blows it all away on alcohol with my mother and my friend's parents. Not a day goes by where I come home from school and I don't find them in a buligerent state and sprawled out in the floor. I have developed the adult role in the house. I cook our dinner, clean the house, make sure my father has everything he needs for work. I'm only fifteen! I shouldn't be a parent of my own parents-but I am. They don't even appreciate all that I've done to keep them and my little sister alive. They always liked Caleb better. Always he was the center of their attention, now they don't even know I'm in the same room as them. My friend, Best, has the same problem as well, I'm not sure about the mistreated part though. He is fifteen as well and the oldest of four. He has two younger sisters-ages three and seven-and a brother who is nine. I used to have a brother too.

I remember the day exactly. The horror no family should be put through, but we watched as all of Panem did for the Hunger Games. Such a rotten, vile, horrible thing the Capitol puts us through each and every year. There are two people chosen each year from every district from around the country. I knew my only brother was to be chosen, all because my stupid parents spend every cent we make on their nasty drinks. Because of them, my brother had no choice but to sign up for tessarea so we wouldn't starve. His name was put into the glass ball more times than everyone else's because once you sign up, that's how it goes. He signed up for tessarea four years in a row. When it came time for the Reaping, I said goodbye to him and his name was pulled from the ball just as I had suspected. My family was in shock, but not me. I blamed them for it. If they hadn't spent our money, he may have never been pulled.

He went a long way through the Games. He never killed a single person and he secluded himself to the deepest part of the forest. He outsmarted everyone. He only came out when it was time to end the Games and there was only him and another tribute from District 1. He was so close too-so close! Only the boy was much faster than him and got hold of him in just a second. My brother was done for when the boy put him in a headlock. Just one flick of the boy's wrist-just a flick-and it was over. Caleb Woods, dead, and District 1 had won.

Nothing good ever comes of the Games. Family's lose a member, and exactly how is that supposed to be fun? We have to pretend it is though, for they are always watching.

It is now two years from the Reaping that took my brother, and the Reaping for this year will be held soon. I am at Best's house now and our parents have just stumbled in, incoherent of probably anything.

All of District 5 is ordered into the ceremony moments after so we help our parents up and make our way to our new life. We know we'll be chosen. No one else takes tesserea here...

**BEST'S POV**

It's always such a cold and dreary place in the Power District. You would think different, but District 5 isn't exactly known for it's subtlety. It use to be that, when the Reaping came around, the land would be brimming with joy and pride. Tributes would spring up right and left, volunteering themselves for the honor and glory. But that hasn't been the case for along time. Hardly anyone is happy nowadays, except for Effie Trinket who was simply overjoyed in the fact that she could host a District other than 12. But the rest of us are dead tired of the Hunger Games, of losing our friends and family before our eyes without anyway to help. It's a terrible thing and, unfortunately, it's upon us now.

Today is the day of the reaping and Sarah and I are simply loathing the fact that we are the two most likely to be chosen. Were the oldest, even though we're only fifteen, because people are frightened to have children because of the games. Our family has also taken the tesserae multiple times each year, so it comes to no surprise that were have each twenty one slips of paper in the glass orbs they will read our names from. District 5 isn't even known for taking the tesserae that often but our parents were out drinking together most of the time, so it comes to no surprise that we're poor. I suppose that's the hard thing about being childhood friends with close parents, everything seems to turn out nearly identical.

Well, perhaps not exactly identical. Sarah is angrier than me about this whole thing. She's always been the lady of action, while I sit in the background and try to resolve things peacefully. It has its benefits but, sometimes, I do wish that I could be as confident as her. The way her long brown hair flows down, messily and unorganized, you would think she wasn't afraid of anything. But I knew her to well I assume that. Deep down she was feeling just as afraid as me, if not more so.

Sarah sits next to me in my house, her long dust brown hair inches away from my face as she talks. She's been here sense early morning, her parents off with mine to get ready for the Reaping. It's funny how they all treat it like a game. Sarah tells me this as she lists the reasons why she hates the Capital (My house being the only safe refuge for us to talk, everywhere else is wired).

"There not the ones with their lives a stake!" She vents, digging her nails into my bed handle. She always did this when she got worked up about something, perhaps as a way to cope with stress. "Why do we have to suffer and they don't even have to bat an eye at the thought!"

"I'm sure their just as worried as you are." I comfort, but I'm not so sure. Sarah's parents never cared for her as much as you would expect a family would. It's almost as if they had distanced themselves from her so they wouldn't have to feel the pain of seeing another one of their children die. In a way, it was unfair and cruel, but I could understand why. It had to be awful for any parent to see their child damned like this.

Sarah talks for a while longer before she goes into her usually quiet state. I'm normally the talker of the pair but when she gets set off, I do my best to listen. Besides, you can't tell what's going on behind those wild dark eyes, anyway. If I really wanted to know what she was thinking, I'm sure she'd tell me all the odd things that go on in her head. But, I think she doesn't tell me for the best. Sometimes, when I ask, I can't follow along with what she's saying. That just pisses her off more but she gets over it. Like I said, childhood friends. We're always there for each other even when we don't want to.

For the rest of the time, before the Reaping, I tell jokes and she laughs along. We don't really have anything to do. Normally we're at the power plant, working until we're exhausted enough to go home. Or, maybe we're at school, our heads being filled with what Sarah calls: "A useless assortment of rubbish that even a raccoon would starve on!" Really, despite what I've made it sound like, Sarah doesn't get upset that easily. When she does, she just makes a point of it. A big point.

We both hear the door open, our parents stagger in. Both are very drunk, as not to feel anything when we we're taken away. Sarah sighs and helps them into a seat but, before she can get any water, we hear the announcement that the Reaping is starting. It blasts across town, chilling even the bourbon in the adults with the sound. Sarah closes her eyes for a minute, as if to say her last goodbyes to her kind personality, then exits with an expressionless face. I get the rest to hobble out and we head off to town square, behind Sarah. I can see the way she's walking, as if she looks almost bored. I suppose it's another coping mechanism, for we both know she is certain to be picked. As am I.


End file.
